PROLOGUE

Plastic, tacky, synthetic beats blared into his earphones as he strolled along the sidewalk beneath an evening sky, checking each house number on the street. He muttered to himself to organise his thoughts. "Tina James…Seventy-five…Seventy-five…Seventy-five," Kevin muttered with a Bristol accent, his words mirroring the melody of Ke$ha's hit, 'Tik Tok.'

The house number of the gable-roofed residence located in Hertfordshire matched what was printed on his delivery receipt. A squeaking whine of gate springs yawned across the yard as Kevin entered while the chilly English wind ghosted through his black polo top beneath a black bomber jacket.

Kevin shut the gate behind him as chilly air could be felt on his chest. Not even the thick fibres of his cargo trousers guarded him against an English winter. Kevin fastened his peak cap over his frizzly head of red hair and stomped toward the house in his chunky white sneakers along the curvy tree-lined path. Once he pressed the doorbell button, Kevin was shortly greeted by the smile of a homely, middle-aged, and barefooted woman of colour dressed in a t-shirt and regular-cut black jeans.

"About time, we're starving!" She jested in a British Nigerian accent. Her eyes furrowed at the ghastly breeze hissing gently from behind Kevin.

"The holiday season has kept us busy. Two family-sized soft drinks, garlic bread, one supreme pizza, and a meat lovers pizza for Tina? All paid. We've thrown in a coupon for a free pizza on your next order."

Tina tutted, "You could have saved paper and just given us a free pizza, young man."

Kevin shrugged, "but my arm can only manage so much!"

Tina laughed, accepting the weighty delivery, "More weights, less X-box. But not before shaving those mutton chops!"

Kevin laughed along, playing into her banter with glee. "The chops are sacred! Happy New Year! Wishing you the best for 2011."

She giggled lightly before closing the door, "Be good."

Kevin drew his phone, turned away, and strolled away from the house. Affording a moment to look up from his glowing screen, Kevin tilted his head after a sudden movement caught his attention near a tree left of the concrete path. His eyes narrowed at a slim shadow that sidestepped behind a thick column of bark as he neared the tree.

"Hello?" He called while activating his phone light. "Anyone there?" Kevin inched closer with clenched fingers.

Another gust of wind kicked up a pile of dry leaves, filling the silence between Kevin and the anonymous stranger. Ken then felt a chill flux through his spine, triggered by hearing a low growl. He jolted back and was nearly thrown onto the moist ground as his sneaker stomped on a moistened leaf, narrowly avoiding a slip. Correcting his footing and gaining his balance, Kevin's chest heaved back and forth.

A barefoot young woman of colour, dressed in a creased and bloodied hospital gown, stared at him wordlessly, stepping away from the tree and onto the path. Her bulging eyes, frizzly hair, and cheeks coated in charcoal-tinged crimson slime completed the ghastly sight. She gritted her teeth and hissed, blackened liquid seeping between each groove. Her demeanour reminded Kevin of various horror films he used to watch during his childhood where the victim was possessed by some form of voodoo

Kevin stood on the spot, asking, "Are…are you bleeding? I can call for help."

He averted his eyes from her face, wincing at a series of scratch marks on her upper chest.

Each of her staggered limb movements slumbered like she was suspended by strings.

"Hey hey hey, stop!"

Her words were obscured by her gravelly snarl. Kevin winced while clutching his nose. "Have you been rolling around in a pit of dead rats or something?"

Reverse stepping, Kevin's heels hit the veranda small step as he reversed. His phone dropped from his hands, and its screen cracked on impact with the concrete paving. The girl swiped her right hand at Kevin to swat him. His adrenaline surge strengthened his broad-shouldered frame as he shoved through the front door, crashing into the hallway.

He charged into a hallway table that abutted a skirting board on the corridor's right side. A vase rattled on a nearby table. Kevin collected it, thrusting it toward the girl with a limp wrist. The vase shattered into several pieces before her feet. Her facial expression remained fixed, nor did she move away.

"What's going on?!" A teenage voice screamed from the stairs.

Kevin galloped through the hallway along the polished floorboards, his moist sneakers squeaking against the varnished wooden surface with stomping intensity. Tina jolted into the corridor, directly in Kevin's path from an adjoining room. His shoulder slammed into her, and they both fell into a heap with a loud cry. Kevin collected himself and pushed himself onto his feet. He reached the corridor's end and emerged into a kitchen on a tiled floor.

Before he could catch his breath, an older man tackled Kevin twice Kevin's bulk. A voice boomed into Kevin's ear, "Gotcha!"

Tina's cries echoed through the corridor while both men were sprawled in a heap on the tile floor. Kevin was gripped by his polo top collar from behind. His attacker shouted, "What did you do to my wife?!"

Kevin's shaky, adrenaline-induced voice was devoid of clarity, 'There's some freaky thing in your yard! Go and look!' His speech came out in bursts and stutters."

A teenager hastily entered and saw the grounded intruder, "Dad?!"

The man pinning Kevin to the floor looked over his shoulder, "Check the front yard. NOW!"

She stared from her father to the intruder and backed toward the corridor. The girl ran to the front door to meet nothing but a calm wind.

MEANWHILE...

The TARDIS turbulently spiralled through the time vortex, akin to a cabin experience of a 747 flying during peak storm conditions. Each twist of the blue box brought it closer to colliding with the electric space-time tunnel walls. Inside was no less chaotic, especially for its sole passenger. Sparks showered off numerous surfaces inside the TARDIS console room, dimming in ominous coral blue lighting with occasional flashes to orange.

The Doctor crashed to the smoke-covered TARDIS floor, inhaling a scent of burning circuitry. Through his pained expression, he looked off to the side at a cracked opaque glass panel to see a fractilised image of a younger and less rugged man than that of his predecessor, the Ninth Doctor. The Tenth Doctor wore clothing belonging to his predecessor. His eyes sparkled at the sight of the slim-figured stranger with brown, longer, flopped-down hair that stopped just below his eyebrows.

Each article of his clothing was one size too large for a man of his slim frame, whether it be his round neck top, black trousers, or the black leather jacket. His black lace-up combat boots were a looser fit around his feet. Collecting his strength, the Doctor pressed his slender fingers against the metallic floor grating and stood.

The TARDIS shook again. He was thrown toward a set of nearby stairs descending to double doors but stopped himself as he gripped a nearby rail. Once the time rotor halted, the Doctor sighed. Coughing violently from a build-up of black smoke, he exited through the rickety wooden TARDIS doors seconds after they snapped shut behind him with a loud clap. The Doctor frantically spun on his heels and pressed his hands against the unopenable doors.

Pressing his back against the door, he muttered in a more rounded British Estuary accent, contrasting against the Ninth's more abrasive Northern British accent.

He murmured to himself. "Rose!"

Pressing off from the TARDIS' wooden surface, he ran through the park. It was presently late at night when he had arbitrarily landed.

The roof globe glowed, charged from a tendril of lightning striking the TARDIS. Howling evening wind blew dry and crackled leaves beneath the thunderous sky, threatening an incoming storm.

After only a few minutes of sprinting, the Doctor collapsed onto his knees with leaves crunching beneath his bulk, coughing once again. Moaning, he clenched his fingers, screaming and gazing at the sky. A couple stood aside, amidst their evening stroll. The male, hand in hand with his female partner, approached the man in his state of agony.

The man knelt beside him, "Are you ok."

The Doctor looked to his rescuer through rabid eyes and grabbed him by his tracksuit jacket sleeves, "Who am I?"

The man shook his head as his wife attempted to tug him away from the erratic man,

"WHO. AM. I?!"

His pleas agonised with added urgency.